Blackness Within (The Blackness Series Book 5)

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  “Brent McAllister?”

  “Yeah,” he says through a chuckle.

  His shoulders are broader emphasizing his narrow waist. The white T-shirt stretched over him is making it hard not to stare. Then he rubs his hands over his washboard abs and I feel my eyes bug out. Good God he’s hotter than he was in high school.

  He chuckles again and my cheeks flame. What’s wrong with me?

  “How are you?” he asks, striding toward me in confident steps.

  “Good. You?” I force my brain into a somewhat functional organ.

  “Really good. Better now,” he flirts, making my cheeks burn even brighter.

  “What are you doin’ here? I thought you were playing ball in Atlanta.”

  “You kept tabs,” he says seductively. “Just got traded to the Royals. I felt like doin’ somethin’ old school to celebrate comin’ home.”

  “That’s nice,” I say softly, admiring his light green eyes and his long-on-the-top, short-on-the-sides chestnut hair.

  “You look good, Tosh. Really, really good,” he purrs, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

  “So do you,” I squeak in a high-pitched voice, nervous as hell.

  “Mac!” a man yells.

  “Movie’s about to start again. Give me your number. I’d like to take you out. Catch up,” he says nonchalantly, pulling his phone from his loose jeans.

  I rattle off my number just as Sully walks out of the bathroom, scanning the area for me.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Tosh,” he promises before pressing another kiss to my cheek, warm and moist.

  He tips his lips in a succulent grin and then turns to join his group. They move toward the action movie as Sully prowls toward me, confusion and rage masking his stunning features.

  “Who the fuck was that?” he growls, leaning into my face.

  “High school friend. No harm,” I dismiss him and turn to head back to the truck.

  I walk quickly as Sully stomps along behind me. He’s a pinball machine of emotions tonight. I’m getting dizzy dealing with him.

  He hoists me roughly into the bed of the truck and we watch the next movie, a comedy, in silence other than our laughter. We load up the blankets and pillows before we head back to my place. He hasn’t said a word to me and I don’t know what to say to him.

  Sully’s my friend and I crossed a line with that tonight. Then he’s all pissed when another guy pays attention to me. I don’t understand. He doesn’t want me, but no one else can have me? I’m too tired from work and a late night of movie watching with a heavy dose of emotional whiplash to figure anything out tonight.

  I thank Sully for a fun night and take Blake’s keys before heading into the apartment. It’s dark when I enter. Zeus follows me to bed and climbs in with me after I remove my make-up and pull on an old T-shirt of Blake’s to sleep in. As my head hits the pillow, my phone pings with a text.

  Unknown Number: It’s tomorrow. I’m calling in a few hours to set up that date.

  Brent. I snicker and set the phone on my bedside table. Zeus curls into a ball at my stomach and I fall asleep thinking about chocolate fondue.

  O’Sullivan

  The drive-in was a bust. I don’t know what happened, but it sure as shit didn’t go like I’d planned.

  Natasha wearing that dress was a shaky start. I should have made her change. Her legs and those sandals up to her knees. Fuck, thinking about it now, I have a semi.

  Then every time I touched her a fire burned in my guts that made me nauseous and needy for more. I’m trying to do the right thing. She wanted to be friends and I’m giving her my friendship. Do I want to just be her friend? Fuck no. Am I willing to jump the gun and fail again?

  Fuck. No.

  When we finally get together, I don’t want her to have any questions lingering about me.

  If she keeps licking chocolate off my mouth while she press her tits against me, I’m not going to make it. Resisting her took every ounce of self-control I possess. Then I fucked around in the bathroom getting my head in the game. That was a mistake.

  I came out and saw some dude kissing Natasha’s cheek as if he’d done it a million times. When he walked past me, lust was burning in his smug pretty face. I got pissed and acted like a dick. Damage control is now necessary.

  I stride through our kitchen and find Kid standing with the Sub-zero freezer open, leaning in with her eyes closed.

  “What’re you doin’?” I ask as I pull the fridge open.

  “Tryin’ to cool the fuck off. My tits are sweating, Sully. Boobs aren’t supposed to sweat when you’re indoors. My feet make Hobbit feet look cute. My fuckin’ back is killin’ me. And I’m so damn hungry, but I can’t eat because there’s no room left,” she rattles off, grumbling the entire time.

  “Your toes do look like cocktail weenies,” I reply through a snort, pulling her away from the freezer.

  I snag an ice pack before I close it and lead my hugely pregnant sister over to a stool. I help her heft up onto it and place the cold pack on her neck. Then I dig my knuckles into her lower back, causing a moan of relief to bubble from her chest.

  “You know I love you, right?” she mumbles.

  “You just love my magic fingers,” I snark.

  “I am partial to expert digits.”

  “Gross,” I mutter through a fake gag.

  She chuckles and then hisses as I hit a big knot. Pregnancy is not fun. I’m not sure why she keeps doing this to herself. By the time she pops in a few weeks, she’ll have four kids under the age of three. It’s insanity.

  The alarm chirps and Kat waddles in from the garage.

  “There’s sweat dripping down the crack of my ass,” she announces.

  “I have a pool in my cleavage,” Kid adds to the TMI.

  Kat flops on the stool next to Kid and I grab her an ice pack too. I lay it on her neck much to her pleasure.

  “He’s my favorite brother of yours,” Kat says through a sigh.

  “Mine too.”

  “I’m tellin’ Kav,” I threaten.

  “Keep rubbin’ my back and I’ll hire a sky writer to tell the world,” she groans.

  “I’m next,” Kat demands.

  “I’ll fight you for him,” Kid says, trying to sound serious.

  “Deal.”

  “The idea of you two fighting over me would usually be hot, but with those bellies and your Hobbit feet, I think I’ll pass on that,” I snark.

  “Did you just say I have Hobbit feet?” Kat screeches, holding out her very swollen toes.

  “He called my toes cocktail weenies.”

  “Rub my back and I’ll forgive you,” Kat commands weakly.

  “Worked for me,” Kid assures her.

  I leave a fist in Kid’s back and use the other to knead Kat’s back.

  “Ahhh,” she hisses while Kid moans again.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on and why am I not involved?” Kav bellows as he descends the stairs.

  “Pregnant ladies from Middle Earth are gettin’ back rubs,” I inform him.

  “It sounds like a porn studio in here,” he says with a chipper voice.

  Kav slides up next to me and takes over with Kid. I keep digging into Kat’s back. By the time we finish, they’re putty. We lead them over to the sectional and help them get as comfortable in our igloo as we can. I don’t know how low Kid has the air conditioning, but I’m wearing a hoodie and sweats. So is Kav.

  “I’m her favorite brother,” I inform Kav.

  “Fuck that noise,” he scoffs.

  “You’re both my favorite,” Kid backpedals.

  “What about me?” Cal inquires carrying a box of chocolate down the stairs.

  Cheater.

  “You’re my favorite too.”

  He waggles his eyebrows at her in a way only a Callaghan can. Kid snatches the box of chocolate from him and teeters it on her belly while Kat and her dig in.

  “Where are Kellerman and Cooper?”

  Kav has a slight
edge to his voice as he realizes our girls don’t have their men with them.

  “Nicky’s at our place putting Jessie down for a nap,” Kat says in a mumbled mess around a full mouth of chocolate.

  “Kel’s with the boys. Givin’ me a break.” Kid challenges Kat’s abilities to speak with a full mouth.

  “Good thing you’ve got us,” Kav points out, flopping on the sectional.

  “Wouldn’t know what to do without you. I’d have to search the Internet all day long to come up with the filth you offer,” Kid snarks.

  “Glad to be of service, Kid.”

  He snags the chocolate away from her before she can stop him.

  “Dude,” Cal warns.

  Kid darts her hand out and snags Kav’s ear, yanking hard until he whines like a little bitch and returns their chocolate.

  He rubs his ear and mumbles something about assault before laying his head on Kid’s belly. She pats his cheek a few times before laying her head back with a contented sigh.

  Kat shoves some more chocolate in her mouth before collapsing to the side. Cal plops down and pulls her feet into his lap. He rubs her sausage toes while she begins to drift.

  With the pregnant ladies in good hands, I head back to the kitchen to get Operation Damage Control in gear. I don’t make it very far because Kid hasn’t cooked and if I cook, I’ll have to initiate Operation Grovel for Causing Food Poisoning.

  Plan B it is.

  “Zeus, off,” Blake growls and offers me a chin lift to enter his apartment.

  He seems tense and annoyed as he prowls away from me. I shut the door and follow. Blake’s been pretty laid back since he got clean. He goes to NA meetings almost daily still. He’s continuing to fill out and his skin seems a touch brighter every time I see him. I don’t think he’s struggling with drugs today. He’s pissed about his sister.

  “What’s up, man?” I ask, settling on a stool as he slides me a Coke.

  “Is your sister a pain in the ass?”

  “Pain in the dick,” I correct him with a smirk on my lips.

  He runs a frustrated hand through his messy light blond hair before huffing out an exasperated breath.

  “She took off a little over an hour ago. Where? I don’t know. Why? Because when I asked, she told me to back the fuck off. When I asked what her malfunction was, she told me she’s sick of bein’ suffocated. That she spent months with no freedom and she’s sick of gettin’ the same treatment from me. Then she stomped outta here in a fit like a fuckin’ little kid. What the fuck, man? What’s her deal?”

  He flops next to me and takes a deep swig of his soda before turning his stormy grey eyes to me.

  “We’ve been hovering for weeks. She’s sick of it. The drive-in wasn’t a smashing success either. Any idea where she went?”

  “I know the drive-in wasn’t great. She was kinda quiet all morning. I figured she’d be all chatty and giggly. Girl shit and all that. She hung out in her room and then tore me a new asshole before tearing outta here in a fuckin’ tizzy.”

  “No idea where she went or when she’ll be back then?” I ask a little concerned.

  “No fuckin’ clue,” he grunts.

  “Wanna go on a picnic with me?”

  “Huh?” he asks like I was just speaking a foreign language.

  “I was gonna take your sister on a picnic. Apologize for bein’ a dick. I’ll take you instead.”

  “I’m not goin’ on a date with you, O’Sullivan. You’re not my type,” he states apologetically.

  “I’m hurt, Blake,” I pout.

  “So many are.”

  With that, we both chuckle deeply.

  “Wanna watch the Royals game?” he asks as we calm down. “We can have a couch picnic.”

  “Yea!” I shout gleefully, clapping my hands like a girl.

  Blake snorts at me and we move to the living room. He flips on the game while I unload the picnic basket on the coffee table. Chicken and avocado sandwiches, ham, pepper and chickpea salad, kettle chips and strawberry tarts for dessert.

  “You’re a good date,” Blake says sweetly and now it’s my turn to snort.

  He and I dig in while we wait for the announcers to finish their pre-game talk.

  “I can’t fuckin’ believe he’s playin’ for us,” Blake grunts around his sandwich.

  “Why?” I ask perplexed.

  “Because I beat his ass in high school.”

  My brow furrows until I put two and two together.

  “That’s Brent McAllister? The Brent McAllister?”

  “That’s him.”

  I furrow my brow further and look at his image on the screen in his new Kansas City Royals uniform. There’s something familiar about him that I can’t quite place. He’s a good third baseman. He’s a well-known athlete. That’s probably why he looks familiar. I’ve watched his games.

  “Tosh told you about that night, right?” Blake’s hard voice pulls me out of my fog.

  “Yeah,” I huff.

  “I should’ve beat all their asses. I went at Brent because he was a fuckin’ coward. If I hit women, Amy Porter would’ve gotten the taste of my boot in her mouth after I shoved my foot up her bony ass. She was a cunt. Probably still is.”

  “I get it, man,” I assure him. I get it.

  “I know you do.”

  Silence settles over us as we watch the Royals battle the Indians. It’s a good game and douche knuckle McAllister is playing an awesome game. Fucker.

  In the top of the fifth inning, a high flying ball heads toward foul territory. McAllister sprints in the direction of the ball and the stands. He dives over the rail, his arm outstretched and snags the ball. The crowd goes insane as he throws it back in play. He jogs down the stands a few feet and stops in front of a group before grabbing a woman. He pulls her to him and smacks a giant kiss on her lips before running back to his position.

  The roaring crowd reaches a deafening level as the move is replayed on the screen in the outfield. The same shot running across the TV right now. A cameraman was only a few feet from McAllister’s show and got the candid shot. The camera zeros in on McAllister at first, catching the back of his head as he kisses the chick. Then he pulls away and the camera focuses on the woman. The blonde-haired, grey-eyed woman.

  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” Blake whispers, dropping his soda can on the table with a thud.

  I don’t respond. I clutch my shorts as I fist my hands and watch the replay over and over. The long angle doesn’t show what I want so I’m waiting for the close up again. When it rolls across the screen after the last Indian is thrown out at first by a cocky McAllister, I hold my breath.

  Her fingers are curled around the bar in front of her as he pulls her to him. Her grip tightens when he smashes his lips against hers. I need to see her eyes. Are they tornadic and wanting or are they still and calm? I lock onto them and find…I don’t know. There’s no tornado brewing, but there’s more fire than the stillness I’d like to be witnessing.

  That’s it.

  I’m on my feet and moving toward the door before I process the movement.

  “Beat his fuckin’ ass for me!” Blake shouts as I slam the door.

  Fuck the friend zone. That’s the last time I watch another man touch what’s mine. She’s mine! Natasha’s about to learn that, whether she wants to or not. Natasha Reynolds is my woman. My future. My worthy spot in life.

  She’s the one.

  Natasha

  Brent McAllister just kissed me.

  No, Brent McAllister just kissed me in front of a sold out Kauffman Stadium crowd of 27,000 people during a nationally televised game.

  What. The. Fuck?

  I’m not even sure what I’m doing here. Brent called me at eight this morning and told me there would be a ticket waiting for me at will call. I sat in my room for most of the morning after that thinking about my bizarre evening with Sully.

  I’ve spent a lot of time with him. A lot. He’s kind and tender. Funny and en
tertaining. Thoughtful and genuine. How am I supposed to just be friends with him? Take his unbelievable hotness out of the equation. The way he is with me is beyond tempting, it’s making me desperate to experience the full breadth of his wonder.

  Unfortunately, I still don’t trust that he won’t hurt me again. I haven’t seen him with another woman since Flannigan’s, but he often goes out after he spends evenings with me. I can only assume that he goes to the pub or a nightclub or wherever he goes with his roommates and finds a random woman to share the night with.

  He hasn’t invited me to join him and I wouldn’t go if he did. I don’t need to witness him in all his womanizing glory.

  So I tortured myself with images of chocolate eyes gazing at me with heat and passion, strong arms embracing me in comfort, soft warm lips devouring me with fervor and then images of the women that actually get all of those things from Sully.

  When I couldn’t stand it another minute, I got dressed and came to the stadium. After I yelled at Blake for smothering me. He is. And yet, he doesn’t deserve my annoyance. I should only be annoyed at myself. I am.

  Now I’m here in this place with what feels like the whole world watching me. I tentatively take my seat and watch the game feeling embarrassed and confused.

  Why would Brent do that? He was never that forward with me in high school. I’m aware that was over a decade ago and a lot has changed since then. I’ve followed his career a little and I don’t remember him doing that to any other women.

  He’s been linked with models and actresses. He’s been in tabloids. He’s been on People’s Most Beautiful List multiple years in a row.

  I’m just a woman from the Midwest with humble beginnings and a solid work ethic. What the fuck is he doing kissing me like that?

  I watch the rest of the game in a daze. By the time the Royals win the game, I’ve decided coming here was a mistake and plan to make a hasty retreat. There was a note with my ticket when I picked it up. Brent asked me to wait for him after the game. He wants to take me out to dinner. No way. I can’t.

  I also can’t run out of the stadium because I’m sitting next to the field and the entire stadium seems dead set on beating me out of here. A few guys whistle and say offensive stuff as I wait on the stairs behind a family. My knees start to shake and I feel vulnerable, alone.